In the beginning, being in a room with both Aleksander and Clara had been torture. Not only was she thirsty, but that thirst made Miranda feel as if time had purposely been slowed down just to tempt her more. But now, everything was happening too fast, and all she felt was a deep pain in her chest.
She didn’t know what else to say to Aleksander, so she gave him what she hoped was a genuine smile. Even if it was only for a minute, Miranda saw the way his shoulders slumped. Aleksander let his guard down, and that was enough to prove to her that behind this hunter facade— behind this hatred, her Aleksander was still there, and that gave her a newfound hope… Hope that after five years, he hadn’t given himself over to the hatred that came with being a hunter, just like how she hadn’t given herself over to the side that held no pain.
With this realization also came sadness. Miranda was glad with the hope that had clawed its way out, yet she wished she felt it towards something else. She wished that she had hope of gaining back these two people she lost, yet she felt nothing but sadness when it came to them. Miranda understood that these two people were no longer hers to fight for, and that thought nearly had her collapsing on the spot. Aleksander had his family, and Clara had Klaus— and just like Aleksander had said, he was happy. Clara had a baby growing inside of her… There was no doubt that she was happy. They had their own loved ones fighting for them, and that’s who they needed to fight for. Bringing back what they had five years ago was impossible, and Miranda begged whatever God there was that she would be able to cope when she truly came to terms with this.
As time continued to move slowly, the three sat in a deafening silence before everything changed. The pain of everything that had happened had finally reached the surface, and Miranda was frozen in fear.
There was no anger or resentment, and in this moment, Miranda wished there had been. She could always take Clara’s anger— hell, she preferred it, because it took a lot to break this Saltzman. Last time, it had been because of Paul… And now? It was because of them. It was because of Miranda, and as she held back her own tears, she realized this was it. After today, she would be crippled. She would no longer have these two people she loved in her life, and that thought made her wish the werewolf bite she had all those years ago had taken her. They had moved on while she had been stuck in the place she’d once called home. They’d moved on from her, and she needed to let them go. Even if they decided that they needed each other, Miranda would let Clara and Aleksander walk away holding hands if that’s what it came down to. There wasn’t room for a vampire in either hunters lives.
As Clara finally found her words for Aleksander, Miranda listened, but nothing really clicked. Her mind was all over the place, and in that moment she truly felt insane… Until Clara’s words to her snapped her out of her own thoughts.
If Miranda had felt broken before, this statement shattered her. In no world would anyone have guessed that Clara would be on Klaus’ side when it came to Miranda. When the two were put together, they were indestructible. No one would have tried to mess with the bond they had, because they knew nothing would’ve come out of it. Nothing would’ve changed that, but now? Miranda searching for Clara didn’t matter. Miranda using Roy didn’t matter.
She couldn’t move. Even when Clara kissed her cheek and told her she loved her, Miranda couldn’t move. She had been torn apart by none other than Clara Saltzman, the one person who had always been the one to stitch her back up. As Clara walked out of the kitchen they were in, Miranda knew that she had to use what little strength she had left to try and salvage something from this situation. Everyone was in pain, but they didn’t need to be. If Clara’s words were killing her the way they shattered Miranda, she needed someone to fix it… And this time around, it wouldn’t be Miranda. She wouldn’t have the same impact she used to. Her words would be useless.
Looking up at Aleksander, she found him watching her, and she could no longer give him the smile she had earlier. Her sadness was evident, but that didn’t matter. Clara mattered, and he could fix it.
"If you ever loved her," Miranda started off strong, ignoring the slight quiver of her lip as she tried to keep eye contact with the man before her. "If you ever loved me,” she said, her voice now in a shaky whisper. “You’ll go after her, and you will not stop until you make her tears go away and put a smile on that face of hers.” Ignoring the tears that slid down her cheeks, Miranda slowly reached her hand across the table, placing it on top of Aleksander’s. She knew the move was bold. He probably despised her touch after devoting his five years to hunting her kind, but she did it anyway. “I’m begging you. Please.”
It seemed that five years hadn't change much after all. These two girls will always turn Aleksander's life around no matter what. Frankly, he wasn't even surprised at the encounter. The same way Clara Saltzman had returned to his life, the same way she walked out of it: with a bang. A literal bang that probably meant he had to fix his front door's hinges. But that wasn't the hardest fixing he had to do today. He lightly flinched at Miranda's cold touch, but he didn't move his hand. He looked up at her finally listening to her words. If you ever loved her. If you ever loved me. Those words crumpled him into nothing. Aleksander would have liked to think that after everything; at least they would know how much he truly loved them. But he couldn’t bring himself to say that right now. Whatever he was feeling at the moment was secondary. The man he had once been was gone, even if he decided to visit upon Clara’s and Miranda’s arrival.
He let himself sneak a look at Miranda one last time. What he saw made his heart feel like it was clenched by a fist, his own; that he knew. He was the author of all his problems. But her eyes. Goddamn, her eyes. Once so bright and deep and warm like hot chocolate… He closed his eyes for a moment. Miranda’s hand was still on top of his. He remembered her skin on his. He remembered her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck almost as if to imply he needed to cut it. He remembered the tickling of her eyelashes on his neck as her lips roamed the hollow on top of his chest. For a moment that seemed to last forever he was back in Mystic Falls on his much too small bed in his house surrounded by half empty coffee mugs and stacks of books. Those months had been Aleksander’s chance to taste heaven, and he had thrown it all away because of “pride and duty”. He clenched his jaw, He forced himself to open his eyes. Miranda was still there. She wasn’t a dream. Her brown eyes were still on level with his, but now they were sad, and cold, and empty. He couldn’t stop thinking he had stolen the light out of them. Forever.
He nodded. He was still the hunter. He didn’t let, couldn’t let, any emotion pass through his arduously built armor. “Of course I’ll talk to her,” he said. “It’s the least I could do.” He stood up without really knowing what he was going to do. Miranda just sat there looking up at him. “Er…Yes. Y-yes. It’s best to get all our affairs in order. To settle this once and for all, right?” he said with a half-smile not letting Miranda say another word, and he was out the door into the snowy winter noon.
This weather had broken the records as the coldest Russian winter, and granted, Aleksander had grown used to the cozy temperature of the American south. He turned up the collar of his coat as he made his way through the snow. His steps crunched down on the compacted snow as he neared the lake not too far from his house. That lake had been the setting for many adventures and misfortunes in Aleksander’s childhood. During summer, he used to do cannonballs into the water to impress the girls in their bikinis. In the winter, he used to try to skate on the pearly surface, but these days the ice wasn’t safe. Next to the edge of the lake there was a picnic table with benches right underneath a tree. He stopped for a minute to appreciate the view. Everything, the lake, the ground, the tree, was covered in snow except for the small blonde sitting on the cold wooden bench. Her feet were barely touching the ground. Aleksander chuckled and made his way over to Clara.
Aleksander lingered a bit to make his presence known, and he politely looked away when Clara noticed him and proceeded to wipe her eyes. He put his hands in his jacket pockets; his body language obvious to anyone’s eyes. “Clara…” he began in an almost annoyed tone. He sighed. He looked at her. He had to be a man about it. He owed her that. “Congratulations.” He sat across from her on the picnic table. This way it was less informal, more… cold. “Because of the baby…” He tried to force a smile, but decided against it. He stared at Clara blankly. He didn’t know what to say. He used to be able to read her like a book. But now, after everything, she was a stranger. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had to face reality. His sister was gone. “I, um… I know how… hard all of this has been for you. It hasn’t been easy for me either, believe it or not.” That wasn’t a lie. For the first five months after returning to his homeland, all Aleksander could think was how he had made a terrible mistake. It had been a mistake to leave like that. He knew that now. “I want to apologize for…” Aleksander stopped talking when he realized he wasn’t getting anything from Clara. He didn’t know if she didn’t care or if she had gotten so good at hiding her emotions. Aleksander felt like a perversion of King Midas; instead of turning everything he touched into gold, everything he touched became ice. Ice had been his barrier, his forte, his home. He had become ice to survive. But this new cold… This indifference, this nothingness that he was forcing the two loves of his life to become was frostbite on his toes. This cold Clara was the cold that burned. Because no matter how cold she was forced to be, she was never going to stop being fire. She would be the fire that would end up thawing Aleksander once and for all or the fire that would end up burning him into ashes.
theartofmadeline
vaporwave
kianamaiart
romaincrisis
